


Spare Me Death

by Agent_Fluff



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood and Gore, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Guilt, Hallucinations, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Minor Character Death, Pranks, Unrequited Love, Until Dawn AU, Violence, Wendigo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-11 15:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5632459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Fluff/pseuds/Agent_Fluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a year since the prank on David Washington’s sister Hannah ended in the disappearance of both her and his sister Beth. David’s invited everyone back to the mountain for the night to celebrate the memory of his sisters on the anniversary of their disappearance. It was supposed to be a bittersweet get together, but there’s a criminal roaming the mountain and something sinister lurking in the woods around them. Who will survive until dawn?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the Name Guide I promised you'd get in the beginning notes of each chapter.
> 
> Wash: David  
> North: Elliot  
> South: Eleanor (El)  
> York: Hunter  
> Carolina: Carol  
> CT: Connie  
> Florida: Butch  
> Wyoming: Reggie  
> Tex: Allison  
> Maine: Marcus

It's a chilly February night, snow still sprinkling from the sky and crunching underneath feet. Frost nips at Beth’s nose as she climbs her way up the side of their family mountain. She winds her hands closer to her body, fingers clinging to the thick material of her jacket. Their friends annual winter getaway at the Whiterose Lodge had already started a few hours earlier, to her dismay.

 

Beth had begged and pleaded her boss to let her off of work for the day, or at least let her off early so she wouldn't have to trudge up the snowy peaks to the cabin in the dark, but he'd only shrugged and gave her a half-hearted sorry. She shivers harder, cold settling into her bones and rattling her around. The cabin was just up the trail, only a few more steps and she’d be sitting nice and cozy in front of the fireplace. Preferably snuggled up with their nice big family quilts Grandma Wash always insisted on making for them.

 

Beth throws open the door to the cabin, teeth chattering as she sheds off her outer jacket once she's indoors. She shakes off the loose snow from her jeans as she walks to the main entertainment room. The fireplace is already lit, and the cabin’s nice and toasty warm. Beth breathes a sigh of relief, shucking off her scarf and carelessly throwing it over the couch arm. She spots her brother and his best friend at the kitchen counter, surrounded by multiple beer bottles. Beth lets out a soft sigh. She wouldn't have expected anything different from David or Elliot. The two liked to see who could drink the other under the table, but they were both a couple of lightweights.

 

She shoves her brother hard in the shoulder trying to jostle him awake. He doesn’t respond, instead mumbling something in his sleep. Beth rubs small circles into her brother’s back.

 

“You two have really outdone yourselves this time.” She mutters, clearing the counter of all the empty bottles and disposing them in the recycling bin. Elliot lets out a loud snore from his perch and Beth snickers.

 

She ruffles his hair as she passes them into the kitchen to make herself a beloved glass of hot cocoa. The cabin may be warm, but she was still feeling the biting chill from outside, and she was grateful to have something to warm her insides. Beth fishes around for her favorite mug, a baby blue one with a beautiful black butterfly on it that Allison got for her, and plops it down on the counter to pour the mix in. She pops it in the microwave for a few minutes and turns back to face the rest of the cabin. Elliot and David are still passed out at the counter, but nobody else was to be seen. Beth could see their stuff scattered around the entertainment room, so she knew they were there, but there was no El staple of loud music streaming from any of the rooms.

 

She spots something on the counter next to David that she’d missed before. She could vaguely see writing on it. Beth picks up the crumpled note.

 

_Hey, Hannah. Meet me in my room tonight, and we can have a party of our own ;)_

_Hunter_

 

Worry began bubbling up in her stomach. Hannah had a huge crush on Hunter. Hunter was also dating someone else. Beth crumples the note up in her hand and gives her brother a hard shove. “What has our naive sister got herself into now?”

 

“Beth, is that you?”

 

She turns around to see Allison descending the main staircase, hair tied up in a sloppy bun and clad in pajamas. Allison gives her a hug when she reaches the main floor. Beth smiles into her shoulder, pulling away as she remembers the note she’d found. She has to find Hannah before something bad happens to her.

 

“Hey, Allison. Do you know where everyone is?” Beth asked, smile fading from her face.

 

Allison shakes her head. “I think they said something about the master bedroom when we got here, but I didn’t really care what they had to say. I had a date with that beautiful bathtub upstairs.”

 

Beth hands Allison the crumpled note still in her hand and watches with worry as realization begins to dawn on her face.

 

“Do you know anything about this?”

 

Allison shreds the note in her hands, worry and anger flickering through her face.

 

It’s all Beth needs as confirmation and she takes off down the hall towards the master bedroom. Allison follows shortly behind. She can feel her heart beating fast and her throat tightening. Beth bursts through the door, seeing Hannah in tears surrounded by their friends and a video camera. Carol and Reggie are laughing, El's holding a video camera in her hands and trying hard not to join in. Butch, Marcus, and Connie are stationed towards the back, looking slightly pained at what's going on. Hannah's mascara is running down her cheeks and she bends down for her shirt to haphazardly throw on. She looks wrecked beyond repair.

 

Beth wants to hit them. She wants to scream and curse until her lungs hurt and everyone in the room knows how horrible they are for putting her sister through this.

 

But she doesn't.

 

She reaches for Hannah but her hand is batted away. She looks so heartbroken, and Beth wishes there was something she could do to fix it.

 

The laughter in the room dulls down when Allison speaks up.

 

"What the hell is going on here?" She demands, fists curled up by her sides. Beth felt a little better having her on their side.

 

Hunter shrugs. "It was just a harmless prank."

 

"Harmless? Harmless?! Does that look like a harmless prank to you?!" Allison gestures towards Hannah whose sobs were being choked out as she avoided looking at anyone.

 

El places her free hand on her hip. "It's not our fault she overreacted."

 

Beth looks to her sister, but the gaze isn't returned. Hannah pushes past them and heads for the front door. Beth casts one last glare at their group of friends and chases after her sister. Vaguely, she can hear Allison’s fury, and a pang of gratitude passes through her that there’s _someone_ looking out for her sister.

 

The fresh air stings against her skin as she finally makes it outside, but Beth doesn’t care. She doesn’t care as long as Hannah is still upset.

 

Allison’s voice is calling from the cabin calling for both of them, but she doesn’t stop running. She has to find Hannah.

 

Beth climbs down the side of the small cliff, ignoring the safety of the stairs in favor of the quickness of her shortcut. She calls out Hannah’s name at every twist and turn of the path, trying her best to follow her sister in the quickly darkening woods. A deer jumps out of the bush in front of her and bounces across the trail to the other side. Beth lets out a scream from the startle and drops to the snow in an attempt to avoid the collision. She silently curses herself for not grabbing a flashlight.

 

Her phone blinks beside her with a notification to remind David to take his meds. She snatches it from the ground and turns on the built-in flashlight, pointing it around the trail to try and take in where she is. Beth shrugs off the clinging snow from her outfit and continues on, shoving down the urge to run again.

 

Off in the distance, she can make out something shining like a strobe. She wanders closer to where she thinks the mysterious object is, wondering if she should really be doing this instead of looking for her sister. Beth pushes a bush out of the way and spots a figure lying on the ground. It looks like a totem, delicately carved and intricately detailed. She picks it up, intent on taking it with her, but when her eyes lock onto the figure’s mouth she’s taken somewhere else.

 

She doesn’t recognize the cliff edge her and her sister are standing on, but a sob builds up in her throat at the pure terror on both her and her sister’s faces. It’s like she’s watching a movie. She can’t react, can’t reach out and tell either of them not to move back. Hannah’s footing slips and they’re both tumbling over the cliff face. Beth feels tears run down her eyes as she watches both of them land on the rocks below, Hannah’s glasses broken the last thing she sees before she’s back where she was, totem still in hand.

 

Beth drops the figure as if it burned her, letting out a shaky sob. What she saw wasn’t real. She has to find Hannah.

 

Beth carries on, shaking with each new sob that racks her body. She calls out Hannah’s name one more time before coming up on a fork in the trail. To her left, an animal shrieks in the distance. It didn’t sound like any animal she’s ever heard up on the mountain. She briefly contemplates investigating the noise but reminds herself that her mission was to find her sister. Beth follows the trail to the right, pushing through thickening trees.

 

Hannah’s sat in the snow outside the line of trees with only a few steps to take before she'd tumble over the side. It looks eerily similar to what she saw from that totem, but she doesn't care. She found Hannah. Beth runs the rest of the trail, tears streaming down her face.

 

“Hannah! You must be freezing.” She panics, pulling off her jacket and handing over to Hannah who takes it gratefully.

 

Beth reaches a hand out to place on Hannah’s cheek, wiping off runny mascara with her sleeve. Another shriek sounds off in the distance, accompanied by the twigs and branches of the trail snapping. Hannah grabs her hand and Beth rubs soothing circles with her thumb. They were going to be fine. They’ll be all right.

 

A shriek rings out through the woods and something's moving towards them. They both take a jump back, startled by the sudden noise. She can feel Hannah’s grip tighten, and suddenly they’re slipping. All Beth can see is the receding cliff side. Hannah screams. Beth grabs a thick root, looking down at Hannah’s terror stricken face. She screams again, tears marking her face once again.

 

Beth slowly looks up at the edge of the cliff, terrified of what might be waiting for them. There’s a hand being offered to her by a masked man. That must've been what they heard. She keeps her gaze transfixed on the stranger’s glove. She’d have to let go of Hannah to reach for it.

 

It was up to her now. It was either let Hannah die and save herself or drop with her.

 

Beth takes a calming breath and lets go of the root. They both fall, tumbling and screaming as the rocky ground gets closer and closer. Hannah lands on the rocks first with a sickening crack and Beth braces herself for her own impact.


	2. Return to Whiterose Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison is one of the last people to arrive back to Whiterose after David invites everyone back. She can't help feeling that something bad's gonna happen at any second.
> 
> Allison POV chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naming Guide
> 
> Wash: David  
> North: Elliot  
> South: Eleanor (El)  
> York: Hunter  
> Carolina: Carol  
> CT: Connie  
> Florida: Butch  
> Wyoming: Reggie  
> Tex: Allison  
> Maine: Marcus

Allison climbs aboard the only city bus that would take her to the outskirts of the city. It was nice and snowy outside, and she lamented the loss of their warm weather as the bus took off. She plugs her headphones into her phone, intent on drowning out the squealing of uncared for tires. They were eating away at her patience for public transit.

 

She unlocks her phone and tunes into the local radio station.

 

_Thank you, Joe, for that report. In other news, no new leads or evidence have been discovered in the Washington twins disappearance case after a full year of searching. Police suspect--_

 

She closes the radio app out forcibly. There was _no way_ she’d listen to a trumped up report about her best friends that the media knew only by their Washington last name. It was painful to hear them make allegations and speculations that never had any basis. No leads, no nothing. Allison almost wished they’d drop the story and find something else to report on, but part of her is still hopeful that they’ll find Hannah and Beth and bring them home.

 

A message from Hunter pops up on her notifications.

 

_You joining us tonight?_

 

Allison looks at the message with dismay. She really shouldn't be placing the blame on him for her best friends’ disappearances, but she can't stop herself from feeling bitter about him joining them at the mountain when it was his prank that ended with Hannah and Beth running away. Allison clicked open her messages to type out a reply, app opening up to her thread with David. His message was still there, burning into the screen.

 

She stares blankly at the paused video of David’s pained smile. Hesitantly, she presses play again.

 

_Well, here goes nothing. Hello, friends. I’m inviting you all back to Whiterose Mountain in another annual Winter Getaway. I know I haven’t kept in touch that well, but you--you can probably guess why. I feel it's best to keep up tradition. It's what-- Hannah and Beth-- would've wanted. So bring your stuff up for the weekend, ‘cause we’re gonna party like we’re fucking animals._

 

Allison closes the video message out with a sigh. David looks so hurt it’s almost palpable. Going up to the mountain probably isn’t the best idea for him. God knows how he responded when he found out Hannah accidentally killed his goldfish; he’d practically disowned her for two weeks, and that’s when they were _ten_.

 

A knot forms in her stomach. Going back to Whiterose would only bring trouble, but what’s done is done. Everyone was already waiting up at the top of the mountain. She releases a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. There was no possible way this trip could end well, she could feel it.

 

Allison quickly typed out a reply to Hunter’s question, informing him she was almost there.

 

The bus drops her off at the base of the mountain. Allison brushes the snow off the sign that marks the trail up to the Whiterose ski-lodge. It’s uncared for, paint peeling off and rusting, but part of her feels nostalgic at seeing it.

 

_Welcome to Whiterose Mountain!_

 

She readjusts the bag on her shoulder and trudges up the path towards the ski lift. It’s quite an impressive hike up, so she’s got some time to herself. Deer tracks litter the snowy path towards the front gate, along with straggling branches and a multitude of leaves. God, it felt weird to be walking this trail again. Last time was filled with snowball fights and laughter and smiles. Now it was dark and dreary with sadness hanging over it.

 

A squirrel runs out onto the trail, cleaning itself before running off.

 

Allison smiles sadly. Beth would've begged her not to move and beckoned the squirrel closer. She was always fond of animals, and they always seemed drawn to her. It was cute, and now, seeing the small animal here, it hits her even harder that Beth is gone.

 

The main gate to the lodge creeps up on her much sooner than she remembers it. There's a small note hanging off it written in what appears to be Elliot’s handwriting.

 

_Broken. Climb over!_

 

Fantastic.

 

Allison lets out an aggravated huff and crumples the note in her hand. She tosses it off to the side, deciding whoever came after her would just have to figure out what's up with the gate on their own. She throws her backpack over the gate first, watching as it thumps softly into the snow on the other side.

 

With step one done, she rolls her jacket sleeves up enough to keep her hands clear and climbs over the rocky side with ease. She hops down and retrieves her bag, thanking the stars it's not too soaked from the snow. She shrugs it on carelessly.

 

It's just a few more feet before she's at the small ski lift area of Whiterose mountain. The lift is lit just enough for them to see what they were doing, but it was a stark contrast from how brightly lit the place usually was during tourist season. She approaches the small shack wordlessly, spotting a bag carelessly thrown on the waiting bench.

 

It must be Elliot’s, if the hideous combination of violet and bright green coloring the bag, matching the colors he was always so fond of wearing was any indication. He must be around here somewhere. Allison looks around for any sign of him.

 

His phone vibrates in the front pocket, drawing her attention once more to the bag. She rolls her eyes at the song of choice for whomever was texting him.

 

 _Anaconda_ by Nicki Minaj.

 

The temptation to snoop on Elliot's phone was overwhelming. She knew it was Hunter texting him. Had to be. He’s the only person that would force Elliot to change his bland ping tone to something like this.

 

Allison walks away from the bag, deciding that, as curious as she was, she probably didn't want to know what they were talking about anyway. Hunter had a tendencies to overdo the internet slang, and it was cringeworthy at best.

 

She rounds the edge of the building, stopping at an out-of-place sign on the worn down wall.

 

_Criminal Wanted._

 

The ink was too faded to make out the name, but the picture attached was unnerving. It was a sketch of what appeared to be a man in a mask that had a full row of monstrous teeth and black eyes. She shudders.

 

_Thought to reside near the outskirts of town. Possible base in abandoned sanitorium on Whiterose Mountain. If you have any information on this individual, please call this number:_

 

The rest of the post was torn at the bottom. Allison thumbs at the bottom of the flyer, wondering how long that had been up there. None of them had ever thought to explore the lodge beyond playing extreme games of ‘hide and seek’. She makes her way back to the bench, sitting down next to Elliot’s bag.

 

His phone rings every six seconds. Allison was tempted to just snap the thing in half to get it to shut up, but Elliot hadn't appreciated the last time she did that to his phone. She grips the edge of the bench and bites her lip. If Elliot didn't get here in the next five seconds, that phone was being destroyed. No question.

 

Elliot appears from behind the corner she’d walked down, a large smile spread on his face when he spotted Allison. She stands up, giving him a small, forced smile. It falters as his phone goes off again. Goddamn she hated that thing. She’ll have to steal it later that night and change Hunter’s text tone, at the _least_.

 

“Hope you weren't waiting here too long.” Elliot banters, pulling his phone out of his bag and typing out a response to whatever was so important that Hunter had to bug the shit out of him every six seconds. His smile widens as he types, and he’s got that love struck look in his eyes that little kids get when they’re near their crush.

 

He was _definitely_ texting Hunter.

 

Allison smirks. Now the _real_  fun begins.

 

“What's your boyfriend want now?” She teases, grin growing cocky as she watches Elliot almost drop his phone and flail to catch it.

 

“He's not my boyfriend.” He stammers, face going red.

 

“You sure? Because you two act like a couple already.”

 

Elliot’s lips kept moving, but no sound came out. Allison watches the flush spread from his face to his neck and, most likely, his shoulders.

 

Jackpot.

 

After a brief moment of silent stammering, Elliot rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

 

“You-- uh, you should come check out this thing I found.”

 

Allison laughs. “You're not gonna show me an ‘interesting rock formation’ again, are you?”

 

Elliot shakes his head. “Nah, this is much cooler.”

 

He slings his backpack over his shoulder, shoving his phone back into its original pocket, and leads them back around the corner. Elliot doesn't seem to notice the poster, and Allison doesn't mention it.

 

She follows Elliot to a small shooting range with a shotgun sitting on the bench next to it. Elliot gestures towards it with a small “tadaa” and a wave of his hand. He looks proud of himself for his find.

 

“You found a shooting range?” Allison remarks unimpressed, lifting an eyebrow.

 

Elliot nods. “Yeah! Cool, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s kind of odd. What’s a shooting range doing at a ski-resort?”

 

“You know David’s mom. Need any more explanation than that?” He shrugs, picking up the shotgun and mock aiming it at a nearby tree.

 

She shakes her head, lips curling up slightly. Melinda Washington was certainly an eccentric character. She enjoyed shooting, knife tossing, and kickboxing. She led the class that Allison had been in before she got into the film industry. Allison always felt connected to her. Melinda also had an incredible reputation within the film industry with two silver screen horror films under her belt. Her film work was impeccable and she was constantly called to do something for some producer, which that meant she wasn’t around much. Allison wonders if Melinda put her work on hold after the accident. She was a notorious workaholic as well.

 

Elliot holds the gun by his hip, a smirk playing off his lips. That can’t be good.

 

“Want to see me shoot? Bet I can hit a few targets before we have to head up.” He asks, smiling as he turns towards the hanging bags.

 

Allison gets the feeling that it wasn’t so much a question as it was a request.

 

Elliot fires off a few rounds into the hanging sandbags and looks back at Allison with a cocky smile. He’d barely hit the small painted target on one and missed the other by a few centimeters. She decides to flatter his ego before showing him how it’s done.

 

“Wow, nice shooting partner.”

 

“Yeah, I’m bad. I’m a badass.” Elliot dances badly in place, shotgun still in hand.

 

Allison shakes her head, a sly smile spreading across her face. Elliot’s dance was embarrassing.

 

“Mind if I give it a shot?” She asks, holding her hand out.

 

He hands her the gun, a wordless challenge written in his smirk. Oh, she was going to enjoy kicking his ass to Sunday.

 

Allison reloads the gun with the spare bullets she assumes Elliot found in the storage room. She shoves the gun into her shoulder, bracing herself for the kickback and lets two shots rip. Bullseye on both targets.

 

Elliot looks stunned when she hands the gun back to him, a cocky grin settling itself on her lips. His surprise quickly turns to dismissal, a quick cover-up to protect his pride.

 

“Beginner’s luck.”

 

Allison shrugs. “Thank to my father, I've been shooting since I could hold a gun. There’s no luck to it.”

 

Elliot says nothing, but his eyes are etched with concern over mentioning her father. She supposes he has more questions that would have to wait for another day, because tonight wasn’t about her. It was about comforting David and honoring the memory of his sisters. Allison shivers a little, but not from the chilly weather.

 

“We’d better head up. They’re expecting us.” He says after a brief moment of silence, shivering despite the six layers of clothing he was wearing.

 

Allison nods in response and follows him back. She pointedly avoids looking at the poster on the wall again.

 

Elliot hoists his backpack onto his shoulders and walks her into the waiting cable car inside the lift station. Allison takes a brief look around, trying to undo the knot in her stomach. It only tightens as the car begins moving up the mountain and she’s staring down at the station getting smaller and smaller. She can’t help the feeling that something bad’s waiting for them as soon as they reach the top of the mountain.

 

They sit in a thick silence. Allison taps her fingers against her knee in anticipation. What was going to happen when they got up there? Were they just going to pretend nothing happened and party like they did before? Play spin the bottle? Hold a memorial ceremony in the same room where it all went to shit?

 

Something inside her is chanting that she doesn’t want to know the answer.

 

Elliot casts Allison a sly smile, glancing once outside before looking back at her.

 

“You want to hear the story of how David and I met?”

 

Allison tucks a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear, laughing a little. “Why not? We’ve got some time to kill.”

 

She’s heard the story a million times before, but he insisted on telling everyone again and again. Allison’s not sure he realizes how in love with his best friend he sounds, but she hears him out anyway. She’s trying to be nicer to people.

 

Elliot’s face lights up at her approval, and it’s almost cute. Almost.

 

“We were in kindergarten, both in the same classroom. David and I sat at opposite ends of the classroom, and he was just unlucky enough to sit at the table with the class bully. One of the days when we were outside for recess, Ms. Johnson, she was a hoot, was the teacher watching after our play break. Well, Ms. Johnson turned her back for a few seconds, and that’s when the bully decided to push little David into a mud pile.”

 

He pushes against Allison’s shoulder in recreation of his story. She hits him back.

 

“Cue the waterworks. Ms. Johnson comes running over and chastises the other kid. We all go inside and she switches David’s seat away from the bully and back to my table.”

 

Allison shakes her head, a smile smile tugging at her lips. David tells the story a lot differently than Elliot does.

 

“If that bully hadn’t decided to push David that day, he never would’ve been moved to my table and we would’ve never been friends. Boom, butterfly effect.”

 

She snorts at the mention of the butterfly effect. It seemed to be the constant topic of discussion between Elliot, David, and Hunter.

 

Comfortable silence rests between them as they head the rest of the way up; Allison fondly watches the trees move below them. The cable car lurches to a stop at the station. They clamor out, heading towards the exit. Allison tries to open the landing door but it’s locked.

 

“It's locked.” She informs Elliot. He moves her out of the way and jiggles the handle hard, eventually shoving his full body weight against it.

 

“It's locked.” He says sullenly.

 

Allison rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no shit.”

 

Elliot waves to someone on the other side of the door and yells to let them in. Though she can't see, Allison is pretty sure the resounding sigh of annoyance from the other person belongs to Carol. She's always been a bit high strung.

 

A loud beep signifies the heavy cable dock door is unlocked and Elliot slides open the door to an annoyed Carol on the other side. She's got her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her teal hoodie and her teeth are sunk deep into her lip as if she's trying not to shiver.

 

Carol moves to the side to let them through. She gives Elliot a warm smile and Allison a strained one. Carol doesn't like her, though Allison never knew why. They were in a lot of the same courses and went through the same gym class in high school. It's not like high school P.E. was a competition, but maybe Carol saw it that way.

 

“Everyone’s already up at the lodge.” She supplies tersely.

 

“You gonna walk up with us?” Elliot asks, mimicking Carol’s pose subconsciously. Temperature must be getting to him.

 

“Unfortunately I was deemed welcoming party. I can't leave until the last of us are here.” Carol frowns.

 

“Hunter.” Allison states. For some ungodly reason he was obsessed with the idea of being “fashionably late”, which is why they stopped inviting him to time sensitive outings.

 

“Sadly.”

 

“He still owes me his pay for that bet at the laser tag arena. Hit him with a snowball for me, will ya?” Allison requests. Carol gives her a smirk and a nod in response.

 

Last month they had a laser tag event to see who would be the best in combat. Hunter was doing good up until he placed a bet that he could beat Allison and promptly got his ass handed to him. They never settled on a true payment, but she figured a snowball to the face from the all-star softball pitcher would suffice.

 

Elliot grabs her arm and gestures to head up the trail. She gives Carol a small wave as they leave.

 

“It's weird being back here without Hannah and Beth.” Elliot murmurs.

 

It's silent after that. Neither of them want to speak and break the tense air that's settled between them.

 

“You don't have to remind me.” Allison replies tersely. She misses Beth a lot. She misses Hannah a lot, too. Her heart aches at the thought of both of them being abandoned somewhere on the mountains, dead or alive.

 

And it all started with a stupid prank because Hannah had a crush on Hunter. Anger rises up in her stomach, and she can't help the vile words that spill out. She’s been holding onto them for too long.

 

“They'd still be here if it wasn't for that prank.”

 

Elliot stops walking to look at her. His eyes are resigned, almost as if he knew he'd have to have this conversation sooner or later.

 

“They did a shitty thing playing that prank, yeah, but l think it'd do wonders for you to think about forgiving them.”

 

Allison bites her lip. He’s right. She knows he is, but she's not done being angry. She doesn’t how else to feel.

 

“I'm not sure I _want_  to forgive them, Elliot! It's because of them that my best friends are dead.”

 

“It's not fair to place the blame solely on them, Al. It’s not their fault that Hannah left and never came back. It’s not their fault that Beth chased after her sister. They disappeared and it's tragic. We're here to mourn, not point fingers.” Elliot's voice is still soft, but Allison can feel the harsh edge to his words. It just makes her angrier.

 

“Beth's _gone_ , Elliot! I watched her run into those woods and she didn't come back!”

 

“I understand how you feel, but--”

 

“No. You _can't_  understand how I feel. I lost the love of my life, Elliot. I was gonna propose to her that night!” Allison yells, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She fights the urge to let them spill. Part of her feels weak for breaking down in front of someone else, but she mostly just feels tired for carrying the weight of her guilt and hurt for so long. She hadn't told anyone about the ring she’d picked out for Beth, except for Hannah, who helped select the best stone for her sister.

 

Elliot pulls her into his arms, forcing her head to lay against his chest. She hates the intimacy, but she knows he's only trying to help. She doesn’t want his pity. She just wants to drink herself under the table and forget this conversation happened.

 

“I should've stopped the prank. I overheard them talking about it, but I didn't think they'd--”

 

A sob rips from Allison’s throat.

 

“There's no should have, Al. There's only would have. If I could relive that night, I would've drank less so I could be sober enough to stop Hannah from running off.” He sighs. “But I can't change what happened that night. The past is the past, and there's nothing you can do about it. You can either learn from it or let it consume you.” Elliot soothes, moving his thumb in slow circles against the nape of her neck.

 

Allison pushes away from Elliot’s embrace, wrapping her arms around her torso. He looks upset for a brief moment that she's pushed him away again, but he hides it well. They stand in another forced silence, neither of them looking at each other. Elliot’s the first to speak.

 

“C’mon, Tex. They're probably wondering where we are.”

 

Allison smiles faintly, shoving down her anger and hurt. “There's a nickname I thought I'd never hear again.”

 

Elliot chuckles. “David’s cowboy phase was an interesting one.”

 

Her smile grows a little. “Remember when he tried to convince his mom to buy him a horse?”

 

“He came crying to me that he got told ‘no’ for the first time in his life. I ended up calming him down by giving him a piggyback ride and pretending to be his trusty stead.”

 

Allison snorts. “Giddy up, North.”

 

Elliot stops walking from how hard he's laughing. David had gone the whole nine-yards with his cowboy phase. Elliot was his stallion, North, and she’d been Sheriff Tex. He used to wear cowboy hats religiously as well.

 

“Do you remember when he force fed me oats?” Elliot was cackling now.

 

It feels really good to sweep everything she’d just said under the rug with reminiscing. The knot in her stomach un-tightens a little and the tears from anger turning into tears of laughter. She was thankful to have Elliot as a friend, not that she’d tell him.

 

“How about when he made Connie his ‘damsel in distress’ because he had a cute little crush on her and she smacked him?” Allison laughed out.

 

She loved David dearly, but _man_  could the kid make bad choices.

 

Elliot snorted, wiping the tears from his eyes and calming himself. They walked in companionable silence, a grateful break from the tense silence they'd previously been in. Everyone was gathered on the front porch of the Washington Lodge. Connie and El were talking animatedly about something. Butch and Reggie were flirting, no shocker there, and Marcus stood alone with his hands in his pockets, staring off into the woods. It was so very... _them_.

 

“Hey slowpokes!” Connie calls, waving to them. Beside her, El gives them an indignant look.

 

“Hey Connie.” Allison answers, hopping up the steps and giving her a high-five. Elliot trails along behind her.

 

“I never thought we'd be coming back here.” Connie remarks sullenly.

 

“I'm just as surprised. I thought the Washington’s would've sold the mountain after the police search hit a halt.” Reggie chimes in, taking a hit of his cigarette before stomping it out with his foot.

 

“I'm worried about how David will handle being here.” Butch cuts in, wrapping an his arms around Reggie’s bicep. “He didn't look too well the last time I saw him at his sisters’ funeral procession.”

 

He moves in right next to Allison, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “I caught a glimpse of his arms when he was rolling his sleeves in the bathroom. There's track marks, Allison. Fresh ones.”

 

Fuck. She should've known David would try to get a hit of coke after that happened. She was stupid to think he wouldn’t and her anger hit her full force again. She’d have to confront him on that sometime soon. The last thing she wanted was to drop his ass off at rehab again.

 

“David said this would help, so I think we should support him in that.” She answers, frowning.

 

Connie and El join in with their concern as well. “We’ll be there for him. David’s a great kid.”

 

“Somebody talking about me?”

 

Everyone’s chatting came to a sudden halt, David standing at the edge of the group with a large grin on his face and his arms crossed.

 

How long had he been standing there just to introduce himself like that? Probably long enough, knowing David. Too shy to just join in the conversation, but too much of a drama queen to resist taking the spotlight like that.

 

David’s smile split further along his face as Elliot moved from his spot next to El and Connie to give his best friend a high five. Allison couldn’t help but notice the small falter in David’s cocky appearance. He pulls her in for a hug next. She hates all forms of touching, especially hugging, but she gives her friend a side one. He needs it, she can tell.

 

“It's good to see you again, David.” Butch tells him warmly, wrapping him a bear hug strong enough to lift him fully off the ground.

 

Allison chuckles a little at his struggle and forced “you too” before Butch places him back on the ground.

 

David takes in a shaky breath and smiles. Allison can see the sadness lining his gaze, but she doesn't move to acknowledge it. It's gotta be hard for him to be up here after all that's happened.

 

“Thank you all for coming. I know you didn't have to, given what happened, but it means a lot. To me.” He chokes out, smile now more forced than ever.

 

Connie places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re here for you, David. If this is what you need to heal, we wouldn't miss it for the world. We’ll always be there for you.”

 

Her voice was soothing, smile genuine and caring. Allison could see something pass in David’s eyes, some flicker of an unknown emotion that was gone just as fast as it was there. He nods at Connie, pulling her away from him.

 

“It's weird being back up here, y’know?”

 

Most of the group nods at David’s words, Butch and Marcus standing there with equal expressions of worry etched in their faces. Allison hid her concern easily, years of hiding emotion translating themselves as a sort of muscle memory. The knot in her stomach tightens.

 

“David!”

 

Hunter’s call cuts through the thick silence of the group like a blade, his warm smile almost infectious. Carol was by his side, hands buried in her coat pockets. They’re both covered head to toe in snow. Allison wonders briefly what they could've been up to. Knowing Carol, nothing happening but talking was the most likely bet, though a snowball fight wasn’t off the table either.

 

Hunter pulls David into a warm bear hug which he stiffens into. They all know that David’s still uncomfortable with Hunter since last year, but that never seemed to stop Hunter’s insistence on making it up to him.

 

He releases David from his grasp with a laugh. “Let’s get this party started, yeah?”

 

David nods sheepishly, bolting for the door as soon as he can. He fumbles around in his pocket for the keys, finds none, then tries the door in a small hope that maybe it was unlocked. Elliot and Marcus chuckle under their breath.

 

“We’re locked out.”

 

Immediately, the group is up in commotion. El’s complaining that she's freezing her ass off, Connie’s trying to ask him if he put his keys in his luggage, and Butch is trying to calm Reggie down from a small temper tantrum.

 

Allison sighs, placing her hands in her pockets. Sure, it was annoying that David had to be so-- _David_ \-- about this and forget to bring the keys to his family’s lodge, but she didn't see the point in taking it out on him. That was kicking a man when he was down, which she normally wasn't averse to, but David is a good friend of hers, almost a brother. She wouldn't do that to him. Not now, at least.

 

Hunter clears his throat, wiggling his fingers in show.

 

“Allow me, boys.”

 

Elliot and David step aside to let him near the door. Allison rolls her eyes. Hunter hasn’t been able to successfully pick a lock since his freshman year of high school. She digs out her phone from her backpack’s front pocket and set it to record this soon-to-be failure.

 

Hunter fiddles with the lock, moving the kit he'd brought with him in and out of the keyhole in frustration. Connie snickers beside her.

 

He hit the door in frustration when it wouldn't open. “Fuck.”

 

David and Elliot were laughing fully now, David’s hitting Hunter’s back and Elliot’s face going red from lack of oxygen. Hunter looks a nice combo of mortified and pissed.

 

Allison silently chuckles to herself so her laugh won't end up on her recording audio.

 

El pipes up from the side, arms crossed over her chest as she tosses the bangs of her hair out of her face. “Oh yeah. You got this, Hunter.”

 

Another fit of laughter rises up from the group, Hunter’s face growing even more embarrassed.

 

“It's not my fault the lock’s frozen!” He yells defensively, his signature pout coming to rest itself on his lips.

 

David hits his back once more before wiping the tears away from his eyes. Allison’s happy to see him laughing and smiling like he is, even if it’ll quickly be replaced by forced happiness. She glances around at the group, happy to see them all in giggles with genuine smiles.

 

It feels like a lifetime since she last saw everyone like this, and she’s thankful the mountain brought them together like this.

 

She can't seem to push away the gnawing thought inside her that it's all gonna go to shit soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the troublesome trio.


	3. Locked Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to David, everyone is locked out of the cabin. They'll make it in. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naming Guide
> 
> Wash: David  
> North: Elliot  
> South: Eleanor (El)  
> York: Hunter  
> Carolina: Carol  
> CT: Connie  
> Florida: Butch  
> Wyoming: Reggie  
> Tex: Allison  
> Maine: Marcus

Elliot wipes the tears that formed away from his eyes and Hunter gives him a very deadpan glare. He stifles the urge to laugh more.

 

“I hate to be the bad guy here, but we’re still locked out.” David pipes up, smile slowly fading into a small frown.

 

“We could always get in through one of the many, many windows of this lodge.” Elliot supplies. He didn’t truly mean it; there were plenty of outside doors to this labyrinth, surely there would be an unlocked door _somewhere_.

 

David smirks, a breathless laugh leaving his lips. “Are you suggesting we break into my parent’s lodge?”

 

“It’s not technically breaking in if you own the place, is it?” Hunter asks, borderline seriously. Elliot briefly wonders how many times he’s locked himself out of his own place that he’d have to worry about the legality of this suggestion.

 

“All right, you can tell that to the cops when I have to explain this to them.” David shakes his head and chuckles. “You two head around back. There’s like a dozen windows over there, one of them’s bound to be open.”

 

Hunter nods, turning on his heel and flipping Elliot’s fur-trimmed hood over his eyes. “Lead the way, North!”

 

Elliot pulls his hood back down and levels him with what he hopes is a glare. Once Hunter found out about the nickname dubbed to him by David, he never let it go.

 

Elliot leads them around the side of the cabin, looking for anything that might be useful for getting in. Hunter taps him on the shoulder and points upward.

 

“Hey, check it out. Window’s open.”

 

Elliot nods. “Nice catch. Here, help me push this container over there so we can get in.”

 

Hunter’s at the other side of the container within seconds, and they heave the cabinet until it’s right under the window. Elliot clambers through the opening, losing his grip almost immediately and tumbling to the floor with a loud thump. Pain shot through his back as he lay against the cold floor.

 

“Nice one, Elliot.”

 

He flips Hunter off before standing up and brushing the dust off his jeans. 

 

“Hey, David says there's a can of spray deodorant in the main bathroom upstairs that you can use to unfreeze the lock. Use this too.” Hunter calls out, chucking the lighter Carol gave him for his birthday. Elliot catches it with ease.

 

He looks around the spare room once Hunter leaves the window frame. There's nothing beyond small trinkets and boring gardening supplies. Most of the metal storage shelves are empty and covered in a thin layer of dust. Elliot makes his way over to the workbench closest to the door. There's a lot of blueprints of what appear to be a machine rigging of some sort torn in half and scattered across the top of it. The trash can next to it is filled with what's most likely the rest of the blueprint shreds. On top of it, sits one barely crumpled memo written in chicken scrawl and red ink. He doesn't recognize the handwriting as anyone’s he'd seen before and plucks the sheet out of the trash quickly.

 

_ I warned you. _

 

A lump forms in Elliot’s throat and he tries to swallow around it. He places the note back in its original spot and moves on through the rest of the house. The main floor is barely lit, the only light source being the moon filtering through the slotted windows. He flicks the lighter on and makes his way to the main staircase. Beside the bottom of the stairs is a small table. Atop it sits a small framed picture of the Washington trip to Florida the summer before Hannah and Beth’s disappearance.

 

Elliot picks up the small portrait. He smiles fondly at the bright faces of the twins. Beth has sunglasses covering her eyes and a tan that brings out the multitude of freckles dusting her cheeks, hair pulled back into a high ponytail that shows off her ombré dye. Hannah has an arm slung around David’s shoulder and is giving him a noogie, her smile filled with the most amusement of the three. David looks extremely unhappy and very sunburned. It’s almost funny.

 

He puts the picture back down and climbs up the stairs. It’s weird seeing the lodge so vacant and dust-covered. He knows that the Washington’s didn’t want anyone coming up here, not even to maintain the place, but it still feels off. It’s as if he’s stepped into a photograph almost.

 

As Elliot climbs up the stairs, he spots Hannah’s room out of the corner of his eye. He feels the need to see it one last time before David inevitably locks it for good. Her room was just as messy as it was last year, clothes strewn all over the floor and ripped up charcoal sketches littering her desk. He uncurled one of the discarded drawings to find a portrait of himself and David from last year, before they got tanked. They'd been playing a game of Go Fish! and argued over the rules. When had Hannah gotten there to sketch David throwing the cards across the room?

 

Elliot tucks the small drawing into his pocket. On her bed sat a small, purple journal. 

 

He feels like he’s invading her privacy by reading her handwritten journal, but he also feels a tug in his heart to be with her one last time, no matter through what format. Elliot flips the book open and a small photograph flutters out and onto the floor. He bends down to get a good look at it.

 

It’s a picture of her, Beth, Hunter, and David from their senior prom. Hannah looked radiant in her purple gown with her hair pulled back into a waterfall of curls. David and Hunter are standing next to each other in matching tuxedos. Beth looks the least happy of them all. She has a short, light blue dress on and her hair up in a ponytail. Elliot wonders if she was forced to go by Hannah or not.

 

He stuffs the photo back into the pouch it was in and flips onto the next page.

 

_We’re throwing a party at our main house, and it’s a pool party. I begged David to invite Hunter over, and he said yes!_

 

_ I bet he looks gorgeous in swim trunks and water beading down his chest. I can’t wait for this weekend! _

 

Elliot lets out a little sigh. She was so smitten with Hunter that it was almost painful. Hunter was such a player, and this whole mess could’ve been avoided if she’d realized she deserved better. He flips to the next page, almost dropping the journal in shock from what he saw.

 

There were a bunch of sketches of humanoid creatures. Demons, maybe. He scanned the page for an explanation but found none. Weird.

 

The next few pages were filled with less sketches of the monsters and more of silhouettes of something in the mountains. One drawing involved a person with black hair and a row of horrific teeth, accompanied by the caption:

 

_**Feb. 1.** I keep seeing these things on the mountain. I saw this face in the window downstairs yesterday. I’m scared someone might be on the mountain with us._

 

Elliot snaps the journal shut and drops it on the bed. He shouldn’t have come in here. 

 

He scrambles out of the room and practically runs toward the master bathroom. Once there, Elliot takes a calming breath and lets it out. She saw someone else on the mountain with them the week of their getaway. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her? They had watched a bunch of horror movies before she drew that, based on the dates in her book. Maybe she just overreacted.

 

Elliot let the thought drop from his head. He didn’t want to overanalyze anything while they were here in support of David. 

 

He scans the counter of the bathroom for anything that looked remotely like a can of spray deodorant and found nothing. He opens up the cabinet under the sink and shrieks when something grey jumps out at him with a snarl.

 

Shit, that scared him. Must’ve been a wolverine or something.

 

Elliot grabs the can air freshener hidden in the cabinet and carries it downstairs with him. It should work just as well as spray deodorant. On the other side of the door, Connie and El yell at him to hurry up. He aims the spray at the door and lights the stream, watching as a little bit of water runs out from the lock. 

 

Mission accomplished.

 

Elliot grabs the door to pull it open and shouts as his hand is burned from the heated metal. Fuck, he should’ve thought that move through.

 

Connie and El are the first to pile in the cabin, grateful to not be out in the snow storm anymore. Everyone else filters in at a slower pace, dropping bags on the floor near the entrance and pulling scarves off.

 

“I’m gonna start a fire.” David announces, casting a smile towards the group at the door and squatting down in front of the fireplace.

 

Elliot gives Hunter a high five when he gets to the living room and David turns to face them. “Make yourselves at home.”

 

Hunter gives him a two-finger salute. “Don’t mind if I do.”

 

He flops down on the couch, over exaggerating his groan of relaxation. Elliot finds himself smiling at his theatrics.

 

Butch and Reggie eventually join the group in the living room, giggling and being all touchy-feely. Elliot was happy for them and how successful their relationship was, but the others...not so much.

 

“We are going to have such a fun time up here.” Butch chimes, smile incredibly wide and sincere.

 

Connie groans at the eyebrow wiggle Reggie gives them. Those two really need to work on their “being discreet” act.

 

David fishes around in his pocket and tosses them some keys. “I promised you both you’d have the spare cabin for the weekend, didn’t I?”

 

“Oh, so you forgot the main cabin keys but remembered to bring the guest cabin ones?” Connie accuses lightheartedly.

 

David flushes red at the accusation. “I’m not perfect, Connie. Jeez.”

 

He stands up at that point, whispering something into Butch’s ear that Elliot can vaguely make out about the generator, and then they’re gone. David is back crouching over the fireplace and muttering to himself in frustration, and everyone else is eerily silent.

 

That is, until Carol practically hurls El through the door to the living room. They’re spewing venom at each other and landing physical blows quicker than anyone can react to what’s going on.

 

“You’re such a bitch, Carol!” El screams, landing a nice blow to the bottom of her jaw.

 

“You’re one to talk!” Carol swings back, landing a gut punch. “You came at me swinging for something I didn’t do, and _I’m_ the bitch?”

 

“You know _exactly_ what you did! You think my shit just ‘magically’ got scattered across the snow outside? I had my bag right by the front door, and after you walked in, bam! All my shit was gone!” El yells back, hitting Carol so hard she goes flying across the coffee table.

 

“ _Why_  would I do something like that, El?”

 

“Maybe you’re jealous of me for becoming our school’s new pitcher.”

 

“You bitch!”

 

Elliot is in action fast enough to grab his sister’s arm before it landed on Carol. He pulled her away from the other girl, fighting El’s kicking and screaming long enough for Hunter to grab Carol and pull her away as well.

 

David stands up from his position at the fireplace once again and looks more annoyed than angry. 

 

“We didn’t come up here for you to start beating the shit out of each other, ok? It’s not what Hannah and Beth would’ve wanted.”

 

El finally breaks Elliot’s grip. He stands next to her, ready in case she decides to start beating on David next.

 

“You’re right. They wouldn’t have wanted it. I’m going to go take a bath, don’t fucking bother me until I’m out.”

 

Elliot gapes at his sister as she storms up the stairs towards the enormous bathtub. That’s the most calm response he’s ever heard from his sister, _ever_. Perhaps Hannah’s disappearance affected her more than he’d realized. Not that she talked to him about it. She just receded back into herself and became more defensive and troublesome.

 

Carol shakes off Hunter’s grasp on her and stomps off towards one of the guest rooms where Elliot figures she’d already dropped her stuff off in. He and Hunter exchange mutual looks of concern, but neither of them are willing to go after either of the girls. It was better to let them cool down on their own. 

 

Connie looks unsettled by the thick silence settled around the remaining members in the living room, and Elliot can’t blame her. This was supposed to be a bittersweet get together, not some painful reminder of the exact same bullshit that went down last year before the prank.

 

The sudden roar of the fire followed by David’s hoot in success breaks the tension of the room. The heat radiating from the fireplace immediately floods the room, which is much appreciated by everybody still in the main living room.

 

“I know we usually play truth or dare mixed with spin the bottle on these trips, but I was looking at some fun things online and came across this fun game that supposedly lets you talk to ghosts. Anyone down for trying it?” David offers, throwing a smile at the group as he stands and faces them.

 

Elliot gulps. Was David trying to talk to his sisters through this?

 

“I'm not sure that's a good idea, David.” He spoke, words tumbling out before he really had a chance to process the concern in them. Thankfully for him, it came across more as the “concerned they're going to invite demons in” than “concerned that David's doing this to try to talk to his sisters”.

 

Connie rolls her eyes at him. “C’mon, Elliot, live a little. It'll be fun!”

 

Elliot glances over at David, who's giving him those puppy dog eyes. Fuck, he was going to regret this.

 

“All right, fine. How do you play?” He concedes.

 

David’s face lights up in excitement, which soothes a small part of Elliot’s worry.

 

“We need a red book and a candle. Connie, you and Hunter go grab pick a red book from the library. There should be some candles in the linen closet across the hall from there too.”

 

Connie nods and beckons Hunter to follow her. They disappear down the hall, and Elliot takes this chance to make sure David’s ok. It's killing him not to know.

 

He claps a hand on David’s shoulder, turning him towards him.

 

“You doing ok?”

 

A multitude of emotions flicker across David’s eyes, none of which Elliot can decipher. David gives him a small smile.

 

“I'm fine, Elliot. You don't have to keep asking me every twenty minutes.”

 

Elliot huffs, a small smile tugging at his own lips. “I'm just worried about you is all. You're my best friend.”

 

David opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by the booming slam of a door from upstairs.

 

“David how come there's no fucking hot water?” El roars from the top floor. 

 

Both he and David freeze in place. El’s baths were her escape, and being denied her escape makes her beyond pissed. Couple that with the fight she'd just picked with Carol? This wasn't looking too good for David. 

 

He casts a sympathetic gaze towards his friend as El comes bounding down the stairs in her jeans and sports bra looking as mad as the time Hunter accidentally spilled punch on her prom dress. Normally, Elliot would've told El to cover up, but he was really not in the mood to be chewed out over being protective, so he lets it slide.

 

She strides up to David, grabbing a fistful of his shirt collar and pulling him close.

 

“Where's my hot water, David? I'll be damned if I'm taking a cold bath.”

 

“Ok, ok, I'll get the boiler going for you. Can you put me down now?” David pleads, wrapping both hands around El’s arm to try and, futilely, escape her grasp.

 

She relaxes her grip enough to set him back on the floor but keeps her hand on his collar. Elliot smirks to himself. El doesn't admit any feelings towards David, but Elliot knows they're there. He can tell in the way she talks about him.

 

At least, he thinks he knows. His sister may show a lot of outward anger, but she's incredibly crafty about hiding every other emotion in her. Elliot has a fleeting suspicion it's because she wants to be tough and independent. He just wished she knew it was ok to ask for help.

 

El’s hiss towards David about the boiler broke him of his thoughts. She dragged him off down the stairs towards the basement, leaving Elliot alone in the living room.

 

He takes a seat down on the couch, grabbing the magazine off the coffee table to keep himself occupied until someone returned. The magazine was a generic People one, with some random celebrity from some show named after a robot. Inside was an interview with David’s mother. Elliot skimmed the questions, stopping at one where David was mentioned.

 

_ Q: Does the love for horror extend to your family, or are you the only one with a passion for it? _

 

_ A: [Laughs] Most of my family isn't that into horror movies since they had to be the test subject for many of my early creations. My son, David, he absolutely adores the horror genre though. He's particularly interested in how they set-up different scenes and the special effects.  _

 

_ Q: Do you think that one day we’ll see a movie from the mother and son duo of David and Melinda Washington? _

 

_ A: [Laughs] No, I don't think so. If David wanted to get into the industry, I'd certainly support him, but I think it'd be important for him to do it on his own. I can't be mother bird forever, you know? _

 

Elliot tosses the magazine back down on the table. Something doesn't sit right in his stomach, but he's not sure what exactly it is. Maybe it's just being back up here eating on his nerves.

 

Yeah, that was it. It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot (North) telling South to cover up wouldn't come from a place of "decency" (he's lost that battle a long time ago) but because it's snowy and cold.
> 
> Also threw in a little reference to Mr. Robot in there. Rami's on the cover of that mag.


	4. Hands Take Hold of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reggie and Butch take their hike up to the guest cabin. They're sickeningly cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if Reggie seems OOC. I wanted him to be a younger and more naive version of the one in show.
> 
> Naming Guide:
> 
> Wash: David  
> North: Elliot  
> South: Eleanor (El)  
> York: Hunter  
> Carolina: Carol  
> CT: Connie  
> Florida: Butch  
> Wyoming: Reggie  
> Tex: Allison  
> Maine: Marcus

Reggie watches his boyfriend take the lead to the cabin. Butch flops down onto his back and makes a snow angel with his large, giggly smile of his.

 

Reggie can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face at how happy his boyfriend looks playing around with snow. His smile turns into a smirk as he leans down to pile snow into his hands, forming the lump into a nice, rounded snowball.

 

_This_  was gonna be fun.

 

“Reggie? Are you doing what I think you’re--” Butch starts, cut off by his own shriek as Reggie’s snowball narrowly misses his head.

 

Butch narrows his eyes at him and scrambles to his feet, fingers flailing desperately for snow to retaliate with.

 

“You’re gonna regret that, mister!”

 

Reggie laughs at his loose threat and chucks another snowball at Butch. It hits him on the cheek and Reggie hollers. Butch lobs his snowball, hitting him square in the back. How Butch managed to have the arm of a baseball pitcher without playing baseball will forever escape his grasp.

 

Fuck, that hit hurt. He was  _so_  going down.

 

Reggie flings another snowball, missing Butch once again. For someone so small, Butch was really fast.

 

He squats down to scoop up some more snow and draws his arm back to fire, but Butch is nowhere to be seen.

 

Reggie breaks into a smirk.

 

“Come out little chickadee. I’m not gonna hurt you. I don’t bite.” He sing songs, checking his surroundings for possible openings.

 

A large weight landed on his back, sending him face first into the snow beneath him. Shit.

 

“Really? I like it when you bite.” Butch remarks.

 

Reggie turns over in the snow to look up at Butch with a smirk. “Of course you do.”

 

Butch chuckles, placing a kiss to his lips. Reggie melts into it and tries to press deeper, but Butch pulls away.

 

“We better get to the cabin before getting frisky. Don’t want to die of hypothermia.”

 

Reggie snorts. “I’m sure we could think of ways to keep our bodies warm.”

 

Butch smiles at him and threads their fingers together. “I’m sure you can.”

 

They walk together along the trail towards the spare cabin. Something runs in a flash alongside them in the woods. A deer, probably.

 

Butch releases his hand when they reach a fork in the path.

 

“Which way did David say the cabin was?” Butch asks him.

 

“I think he said it was--”

 

A shrill shrieking noise cuts his sentence off. Butch practically jumps out of his skin while Reggie goes stalk still.

 

What the fuck?

 

“Did you hear that?” Wyoming questions, straining his ears to listen for any more of the mysterious noise.

 

“It was probably just a squirrel or something.” Butch offers. His smile doesn't falter, but he can easily see the fear hidden in his eyes.

 

“No known wildlife makes that kind of sound.” Reggie mutters to himself. He turns towards Butch with a sly smile.

 

“Wanna go check it out? I think it came from down this trail…”

 

“Don't you dare!” Butch practically shrieks, hitting Reggie’s arm. He laughs at his own teasing. Nothing like having a little fun joking around with his boyfriend.

 

“I'm just pulling your leg, chap. The cabin’s this way.” He consoles, wrapping an arm around Butch’s shoulder and pulling him close.

 

Butch says nothing for most of the trek, probably agitated that he had a little fun. He can be very passive aggressive at times.

 

Reggie smiles when Butch’s freehand came to rest in his. He rubs little circles into his hand, distracting himself from the scenery, when Butch comes to a sudden halt.

 

Before them is a tree with four massive claw marks striking deeply into it. Butch’s grip gets tighter.

 

“It's probably just a bear.” Reggie offers, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. No bear would leave marks that deep on a tree, but he wasn't going to tell Butch that. He was scared enough as it was.

 

“B--bear?” Butch whispers. Reggie tugs him in the direction of the cabin.

 

“They're probably old marks. The cabin’s just up ahead.”

 

They walk the last twenty feet to an open clearing where a small shack lies just before the trees start up again.

 

Butch untangles their hands, and Reggie already misses the touch.

 

“Is that the generator shack that David mentioned?” Butch asks, scrunching his nose up in that adorable way of his.

 

“I think so. I’ll get the generator started. Stay here, all right?”

 

Butch nods and Reggie gives him a soft smile. He follows the small trail to the shack and pushes the heavy door open.

 

A thick layer of dust covers everything and the room smells musty and settled. Reggie coughs at the storm his movements cause.

 

“All right, let’s see what we have here.” He mutters to himself, turning his flashlight on and aiming it at the generator.

 

The cords are a mess of tangles, but it takes less than a few minutes to figure out what needs to reattached and what needs to be pushed to bring power. The generator rumbled to life with a grunt and a wheeze.

 

Fuck yeah, he’s the best.

 

“Hey, Reggie? Are you sure that there are bears out here? These don’t look like bear marks.” Butch’s call breaks his wave of confidence, worry taking its place.

 

“What are you talking about, Butch?” He shouted back, jogging down the path and back towards the pile of their stuff Butch had abandoned at the shore of the frozen lake.

 

Shit! He was following claw marks on a frozen lake!

 

“Butch, get back here! That’s a lake!” Reggie shouted, running onto the thin ice and after his dumbass boyfriend.

 

“What?” Butch called, confusion immediately replaced by fear as the ice broke beneath him.

 

“Shit!” Reggie picks up his pace, grabbing Butch’s hands before he slips all the way under the freezing water. “I’ve got ya. I’ve got ya.”

 

He tightens his grip as Butch seems to be slipping through his fingers, as if something was pulling him back down.

 

“Reggie, don’t let go! Don’t let go!”

 

“I won’t, Butch. Never.”

 

Reggie gives a large heave, pulling Butch clear out of the water and dragging him onto the ice. Butch flails to stand up and grabs Reggie’s shoulder for dear life.

 

Fuck, that could’ve been bad.

 

“Let’s get to that cabin. Don’t want you to get frostbite on my watch.”

 

Butch nods, already beginning to shiver intensely. Thankfully, they’re not that far from the cabin. Just a short walk up the main trail and they’ll be set.

 

They walk together in silence, Butch’s stunted breaths the only noise filling the air between them. Reggie shoulders their bags once they’re back on shore and wraps his free arm around Butch. He rubs his arm soothingly and takes in the surrounding scenery.

 

He’s not sure how, but the trees look different. Almost menacing, like a screenshot from an _Evil Dead_  movie.

 

“Reg.” Butch sniffles.

 

Reggie glances down into his boyfriend’s dark brown eyes that were wide with fear and terror. He wishes he could wipe that look away for good.

 

“This is--it’s gonna sound crazy, Reg. I felt something down there.” Butch mumbles.

 

They stop walking, and Reggie pulls Butch in front of him so they’re face to face.

 

“Like a fish or something?” He asks, brows furrowing. Why was Butch so freaked out over this? Sure, he usually squeaked whenever seaweed wrapped around his legs at the beach, but he _never_  freaked out like this.

 

“ _No._  It--I felt a hand wrap around my ankle.” Butch whispers, almost as if he doesn’t believe what he’s saying.

 

“You probably got caught on something. It’s ok.” Reggie soothes.

 

Butch shakes his head. “N--no. I--I felt something _grab_  me. I felt the _fingers_  of it.”

 

Reggie takes in a shaky breath and wraps Butch in his arm again. “Well, whatever it is, is in the lake. We’ll be at the cabin in no time and we can forget this happened. Sound good?”

 

Butch nods. “Peachy.”

 

Reggie plants a lingering kiss to the top of Butch’s head. He knows it makes Butch feel better when he does that. There’s been plenty of nightmares where that’s brought him back to reality.

 

Butch wiggles out of Reggie’s grasp as soon as the cabin is within sight. He watches his partner run to the door and nearly slam into it. Reggie stifles a gasp as he tosses Butch the keys David bestowed them.

 

Butch disappears inside, and Reggie slowly makes his way to the front porch. He’s glad to finally spend his alone time with Butch up here, but something doesn’t feel right. As if they were being watched.

 

He shakes the paranoia as he steps inside the cabin and works on getting a fire started. Nothing like romantic atmosphere for setting the mood to get lucky.

 

Butch reappears a few minutes later, wearing only a loose hanging pair of jeans. Reggie whistles at him, unable to contain his eagerness for the night’s events. He pulls Butch in for a kiss before pulling away.

 

“You must be freezing right now.” Reggie murmurs, casting a glance back at the fire pit.

 

“A little, but I'm sure I'll be warming up here soon.” Butch practically purrs.

 

Reggie smirks at the playful gleam in his boyfriend’s eye and moves back to the fireplace.

 

He could do this. It isn't that hard to start a fire. All he needs is some wood, which is in a bucket right next to the fireplace, and his lighter which was in his back pocket. He flicks the tiny flame of his lighter to life, pointing it towards the wood. The wood is quickly engulfed in flames, and Reggie lets out a sigh of relief at the warmth flooding the room.

 

“Reggie, I think someone's out in the woods.” Butch calls, concern lacing his every word.

 

“There's no one else on the mountain with us. It's probably just shadows.” He reassures, flopping down on the couch as he watches Butch stare out the window.

 

“No, there was definitely someone out there. I'm going to go check it out.” Butch remarks, voice far away as if he's focusing on something else.

 

“If you're so sure that there's someone out there, I'll go with you.” Reggie offers.

 

Butch shakes his head. “No, it's ok. I'd feel better if you waited on the porch for me, though.”

 

Reggie hops up from the couch and fishes around in his bag for the pistol he's brought just in case. Butch told him earlier it wasn't necessary to bring on the trip, but Reggie had insisted. He was thankful now that he'd won that argument.

 

Butch is already outside scanning the tree line when Reggie reaches the porch railing. He steadies the gun in his hand but doesn't do much else. He's certain there's no one else up here and Butch’s imagination was just running wild again, but if it soothed his boyfriend to have him stand on the porch with the gun, he was gonna do it.

 

Butch turns around, confusion apparent on his face. “I don't understand! I swear I saw someone moving around out here!”

 

“I told you there was nobody out here with us. Come back inside.” Reggie calls, nodding towards the cabin.

 

“I'm coming.” Butch resigns.

 

He's about to pull the door to the cabin open when an ear piercing scream hits the air. Reggie turns around, heart beating eighty miles a minute, and sees Butch being dragged by something obscured by the shadows of the woods. Butch’s hands are flailing wildly, trying to grab purchase on anything.

 

Shit.

 

_Shit_!

 

“I'm coming for you, Butch!” Reggie shouts, legs already in action.

 

“Reggie, help!” Butch screams, the terror in his voice makes Reggie’s panic skyrocket.

 

Oh _fuck_ , this wasn't good.

 

He runs into the woods, following the trail Butch's fingernails dug in the snow. Reggie leaps and bounds over every obstacle in his way, except for a tree swinging back at him in his blind spot. He tumbles to the ground in surprise, landing awkwardly on his right shoulder.

 

Shit, now he was gonna lose Butch. He can't let that happen.

 

“Shit. Fuck.” Reggie curses, gripping at the pain now rippling through his shoulder.

 

He chases after the trails once more, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and pushing through the singing ache of his muscles. His throat burns from the panting gasps he’s drowning in, but he can’t slow down for fear of losing Butch.

 

Reggie skids to a stop, ice biting at his heels. Butch is laying on the ground not twenty feet away from him. He stumbles closer, tripping over a root lying just above the snow cover, and he ends up on his knees, soaking in the stained slush next to Butch.

 

Butch’s eyes are lifeless and glossy, his face contorted into a frozen scream of pain. Reggie wipes the blood splatters from Butch’s cheek and gently closes his eyelids. He looks more peaceful now, but the rest of his body is a horror scene.

 

His whole upper body and a lot of the surrounding snow is covered in Butch’s cooling blood. Organs hang out of his stomach cavity, both intestines hanging limply against the snow like a sick haunted house attraction. His ribcage was bent out of place and the bones were sticking up at odd angles. His heart was missing and his lungs were torn.

 

Reggie felt bile rising in his throat, but he pushed it down. The sight before him was gruesome, and he wants to scream, but it would do nothing to catch Butch’s killer. If there was one last thing he could do for him, it was that.

 

He stands from his kneeling position and gazes around the woods. There’s no signs of anyone around him, just the ominous stillness of the trees. How could someone have killed Butch so quickly and have disappeared in a flash? How was that humanly possible?

 

Below him, Butch’s body shakes and is suddenly pulled into a nearby bush. Reggie chases after the blood smears until they disappear.

 

How could they just disappear like that? What the hell was going on?

 

The same pile of organs he’d seen hanging from Butch’s stomach hit the ground next to him with a sickly plop. He aims his pistol up into the tree lines, scanning for any sign of movement.

 

Reggie throws the gun into the snow out of frustration when he finds nothing.

 

He was going to kill whoever did this to his Butch. He was going to find them and make them pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops :)


	5. The Red Book Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connie and Hunter return from the study with a book and a candle ready to play the red book game. Word to the wise: never ask what the future has in store for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naming Guide
> 
> Wash: David  
> North: Elliot  
> South: Eleanor (El)  
> York: Hunter  
> Carolina: Carol  
> CT: Connie  
> Florida: Butch  
> Wyoming: Reggie  
> Tex: Allison  
> Maine: Marcus

“Look what we’ve got!” Connie sing songs, bounding down the hall of the Washington Lodge to where Elliot and David are sat on the couch. She rolls her eyes at the two when she gets close enough to hear them arguing over which Final Fantasy game was the best. They were _always_   arguing this. It takes every ounce of her willpower not to smack them upside the head and tell them they were both wrong, because Final Fantasy X-2 was obviously the best of the franchise.

 

She drops the book onto the coffee table with a loud thud and smirks when the two lovebirds jump at the sudden noise.

 

“One book and one candle. Hope the color doesn’t matter. David, why the fuck does your mom have so many candles?” Hunter remarks, placing the candle beside the book.

 

“They’re dad’s, and I don’t know. He brings one back from wherever they film his movies.”

 

“And by one, do you mean two hundred?” Hunter asks questioningly, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“Something like that.” David shrugs.

 

“Let’s get this show on the road. How do we play?” Connie asks, eagerly sitting on the carpet at David’s feet. He gives her a small smile.

 

“We need to light the candle first.” David supplies.

 

Hunter snatches the candle before he’s even finished his sentence and holds the wick towards the fireplace until it’s lit.

 

“Tadaa!” He smirks.

 

Connie rolls her eyes. God, why did he have to be such an arrogant prick?

 

Hunter takes his place back on the floor next to Elliot’s legs and places the candle in the center of the table.

 

“One of us needs to place their palm on the book and ask if we can have permission to play the game.” David tells them.

 

“Hand it over to me, I’ll take the first hit.” Hunter offers.

 

Connie slides the book across the table towards him and he takes it with a smirk. She hopes a spirit does something to knock that stupid cocky grin off his smug face.

 

Hunter clears his throat before he begins.

 

“Spirits.” He sings.

 

“Really Hunter? Shawn Spencer?” Connie asks flatly. 

 

“It’s an iconic show, Connie.” He retorts. She rolls her eyes at him.

 

“Spirits!” He begins again. “May we be granted access to partake in this game?”

 

Hunter opens the book to a random page and points to a sentence.

 

“Well read it out loud.” David asks impatiently.

 

“Okay, okay, sheesh.” Hunter clears his throat. “‘And I said to the ghost of Mr. Surveyor Pue, -- ‘I will!’”

 

The group was silent as they thought about what the sentence could mean.

 

“Is that a yes?” Elliot asks meekly.

 

“Fuck yeah it is!” Hunter remarks with a cocky grin.

 

They pass the book around the table until everyone’s been allowed in the game.

 

“Well, since this game was David’s idea, I think he should be the one to make the first move.” Elliot offers up.

 

David takes the book, gently fingering the worn edges as he thinks of what to ask.

 

“Will this night be a memorable one?” He asks gingerly, closing and flipping the book back open.

 

_Yea, indeed!_

 

Connie narrows her eyes at the weird gleam and slight cock in David’s eyes and smile. Was he going to ask his crush to bang that night? Holy shit, that was, wasn’t it? He was going to ask North to bang and of course he’d say yes.

 

Connie let out a small, disappointed sigh. What was the point in pining over someone hopelessly in love with their best friend?

 

And yet, she couldn’t help it. How fucking sappy.

 

“It’s my turn now!” Hunter announces loudly, snatching the book from David’s hands.

 

“Am I getting laid tonight or what?”

 

_Nay; not so, my little Pearl!_

 

Connie snorts when Hunter frowns in disappointment. He slides the book over to her with mock hysterics.

 

“Ok, ok, we get the point, jackass.” Connie laughs. “Hmmm, spirit? How will I die?”

 

“Getting spooky already? I like it.” Hunter laughs.

 

“Go big or go home, right?” Connie remarks as she awaits the book’s response.

 

_ There will be merry company in the forest; _

 

“Freaky.” Elliot deadpans.

 

“Hey, don’t you want a turn asking questions? You are part of the game, after all.” Hunter pesters, but Elliot turns him down.

 

“More questions for me!” Hunter chirps with glee, eagerly taking the book from Connie’s hands and clearing his throat like the drama queen he is.

 

“What’s David’s future look like?” He teased.

 

“Hunter, c’mon, that’s mean.” Elliot chastised. 

 

“Let’s see what it says before making any assumptions here, Elliot.” Hunter snorts, flipping the book open for its answer.

 

_ A mortal man, with once a human heart, has become a fiend for his especial torment! _

 

A silence falls over the group and no one dares to take a breath. David looks shellshocked, to put it nicely.

 

Connie watches him debate on what his next move will be.

 

“H-hand me that book.” David requests, scooping the book up in his shaky hands.

 

“W--What happened to Hannah and Beth?” David cries more than asks.

 

Elliot shifts towards him, expression easily slipping into one of concern. Connie would’ve made fun of him for it if she wasn’t feeling the same amount of concern herself.

 

“David, this isn’t a good--”

 

“Shut up. What happened to Hannah and Beth?” He interrupts, gaze turning rabid as he watches the pages flip with a response.

 

_He betrayed me!_

 

Connie looks over at Hunter, whose cocky grin and relaxed nature is gone, leaving a ghost in its place. David glances at him briefly before turning his focus back to the book.

 

“A-after the prank. What--Hannah--where did you go?”

 

_Some attribute had departed from her, the permanence of which had been essential to keep her a woman._

 

“Fuck, oh fuck. What does that mean? I should’ve been there to stop the prank. I should’ve--”

 

Elliot cuts him off by wrapping him in a hug that David squirms to break free of.

 

“David, please, calm down. We should do something else.”

 

“No! Let me go! I need to know.” David yells, finally breaking loose of Elliot’s grip.

 

He stares down at the book, unmoving. Connie exchanges a worried glance across the couch with Hunter. She places a reassuring hand on David’s thigh that he shrugs off as he stands, shaking his head back and forth rapidly.

 

“No, you know what, this is bullshit. A load of bullshit. One of you must’ve done something to this book, a--and I don’t know if you thought it’d help me or something, but this is bullshit.” David announces rapidly, leaving the room almost as fast as the accusation had came.

 

The three of the sit in silence, staring at the doorframe as if waiting for David to come marching back in with a big cocky grin and a “gotcha!”.

 

“I...think I’m gonna go set up a movie for us to watch in the entertainment room.” Hunter mumbles, effectively breaking the thick silence of the room laid down by David’s exit.

 

“Good idea.” Elliot remarks, still watching the door as if David had personally spat on his grave.

 

Connie watches him leave the room awkwardly. If this were any other time and any other circumstance, she’d have been happy to see him so shell-shocked and crumpled in on himself, but she only felt pity for him.

 

He _was_  the reason Hannah ran. The _main_  reason, anyway.

 

Connie’s gaze returns back to the doorway.

 

“He didn’t ask permission to leave.” She remarks with a stunted laugh.

 

The book flies off the table and hits the door frame with a loud thud, making both Connie and Elliot scream. Fuck, she’s just about _had it_  with contacting spirits on this mountain. 

 

She rushes over to pick up the book, glancing briefly at the page it’s opened to.

 

_ \--he fancied himself given over to a fiend, to be tortured with frightful dreams, and desperate thoughts, the sting of remorse, and despair of pardon; as a foretaste of what awaits him beyond the grave. But it was the constant shadow of my presence!--the closest propinquity of the man whom he had most vilely wronged!--and who had grown to exist only by this perpetual poison of the direst revenge! _

 

Elliot joins her, placing a gentle hand on her elbow. “I think we should put the book back now.”

 

Connie nods in agreement. “That’s...probably for the best.”

 

They walk the dim halls of the lodge in silence, a weird almost eeriness emanating from its walls. She can’t quite put her finger on why, but she _knows_  something bad’s gonna happen.

 

Was this just her being a pessimist again? The last time she had this gut twist was right before the prank.

 

No, it was just nerves. Everyone was unsettled by David’s mini breakdown, that was all. The cabin would feel warm and inviting again after a nice movie.

 

Elliot enters the library first, gazing in wonder at the rows and rows of shelves before him. Connie does the same.

 

She’s always been amazed by the collection of literature the Washington’s had. Beth used to smuggle out books for her to read that their dad wouldn’t allow them to read yet.

 

“Do you remember what shelf you got it from?” Elliot asks, running his fingers gently over the dusty book spines.

 

“Yeah, it was this one.” Connie plops the book back on the shelf, thankful for the interruption before she walked down memory lane and made herself sad again.

 

She looks curiously at the other books on the shelf again. Something was... _off_  about them.

 

Everything seems to be the same, except one of the books was bent out just slightly. She pushes it back into place, taking a few steps back after hearing a loud click.

 

“What was that?” Elliot asks, frantically looking around the library.

 

The book shelf Connie had fixed the book on moves out of the wall and off to the side, revealing a small, hidden room on the other side. Papers were scattered throughout it and many lined the waste bin.

 

“Classic Melinda.” Elliot comments offhandedly with a relieved laugh.

 

Connie shakes her head. This was like something out of a freaking horror movie.

 

She walks into the room, glancing at the papers strewn about the desk inside. They were all different bits and pieces of screenplays, many of which were lined with red correction markings.  Connie plucks the top packet off the pile.

 

_ ”Until Dawn: Eight friends return to the mountain where they lost two of their friends the year before. They thought their trip would be in remembrance, but there’s a killer hiding on the mountain that’s ready to take them out, one by one.” _

 

Connie crumples the sheets in her hands. What the fuck? How did--what--

 

“Elliot, come look at this.” She beckons, handing him the script. He reads the front page, eyes widening.

 

“Freaky.” He remarks. “This doesn’t look like something written by Melinda. Look, it even has a bunch of marks from her to the the original script writer about calling the cops because she saw the script as a death threat. I don't blame her on that one."  


 

He takes in a shuddering breath as he scans the page for any sign of the original author. "It says it was written by--huh, the names scribbled out.” 

 

“Look at the date!” Connie whispers, pointing to the top corner of the page.

 

“February 22, 2005.” Elliot reads, brow furrowing as he processes the information. “That’s 10 years ago _to the day_.”

 

Connie takes the pages back from him with a nod. A smaller piece of paper flutters out from the stapled pack. She bends down to pick it up, spare hand going to cover her mouth.

 

It was a picture of Hannah and Beth. They were smiling and happy, their arms wrapped around each other at the gates of Disneyland.

 

She flips the picture around in her hand, furrowing her brow at the words smeared on it.

 

_I will take them and bleed them like pigs and rip their soft white skin off! Fucking 16 years. 16 years I waited for pretty little Hannah and Beth!_

 

Connie gasps in horror as she finishes reading the message. What the fuck? Was there some fucking madman gunning for the Washington’s?

 

“Elliot, look at this.” She cries, throwing the picture towards him as if it burned her.

 

Elliot takes the pictures and shakes his head in denial. 

 

“This has gotta be some sort of prank. The script, the twins, the picture--it’s all too coincidental.” Connie remarks hysterically. There wasn’t someone after the Washingtons. There _wasn’t_. That was horror movie bullshit that doesn’t happen.

 

Elliot places a hand on Connie’s shoulder, and it takes all of her effort not to shrug it off.

 

“Connie, look at me.”

 

She does as instructed and wishes she hadn’t. Elliot’s eyes are haunted with fear and regret.

 

“I saw a poster outside when I walked up with Allison. An FBI’s most wanted poster. It said the man in question was hiding on the mountain.” He whispers solemnly.

 

Connie shakes her head. No. This isn’t happening. It _wasn’t_.

 

“Look, there’s Melinda’s computer. We can use it to find out if there really is some maniac wanting to off the Washingtons; this is some horror movie bullshit, and until I won’t believe what I’m seeing until it’s confirmed via FBI database.”

 

“Connie--”

 

“I can’t, Elliot. I just-- _can’t_. Hannah--and Beth--”

 

“Connie, it’s ok.”

 

“Like hell it is.” Connie hisses, quickly typing in Melinda’s most common password and bringing up Google Chrome. She clicks her nails impatiently against the wooden desk while she waits for the FBI database to load.

 

“Connie, what is this gonna prove?”

 

“It’ll prove that this is all one fucked up joke by David or Hunter or someone and that there’s no maniac on this mountain that wants to kill us all.”

 

“Connie--”

 

“--here we are.” She interrupts, pulling up the name of the most wanted criminals for their area.

 

“Holy shit.” Elliot whispers, covering his mouth. He points to the poster with a sketched man in a monster mask on it. Connie tries to make the picture bigger, but it won’t allow it.

 

“That’s him. That’s the guy on the poster at the bottom of the mountain. Shit.” He stammers.

 

Connie swirls around to face him and accidentally knocks Elliot off-balance. He stumbles backwards and grabs the edge of one of the tables to steady himself. They both jump at the sound of the phone receiver starting up.

 

“You have one unheard message.”

 

Elliot glances at Connie before returning his gaze back to the receiver. A deep, gruff voice filters through the speaker:

 

_ “Hello, Mrs. Washington, this is Sheriff Burns from the Cochise County Police Department. There’s nothing we can do to restrict his movements, ma’am. I’m sorry, but there just isn’t enough evidence to warrant such an action. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to give us a call.” _

 

Connie and Elliot exchange an unnerving glance.

 

Holy shit. Sheriff Burns had made this call. This was real, had to be.

 

Fuck. That means--

 

“Oh god.” Connie whimpers, stifling her crying. Fuck, it was all their fault. They’d gotten Hannah killed by playing that stupid prank on her. She ran out into that snowstorm and right into the trap. Beth, too.

 

No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t real. It’s a fucked up dream, or prank, or _something_.

 

Elliot wraps Connie in a tight embrace. “Let’s go watch the movie with Hunter and forget this happened, ok? There’s nothing we can do about it _now_.”

 

Connie nods into his shoulder. He was right. There wasn’t really cell service up here, spare the house line of the cabin that only connected to emergency services. It’s not like they could call the ranger station and tell them about the case they already knew about.

 

Elliot releases his hold but leaves an arm slung around Connie’s shoulder that she’s grateful for. She’d never voice that gratitude, but she was thankful to have someone that cared about her this much.

 

Connie leads them out of the room and down the hall, stopping as soon as the floor started to crack beneath her.

 

No, wait. It wasn’t the floor cracking, but what was scattered _on_  the floor that was cracking. Shards of white glass cover the hall before them.

 

She picks one of the larger pieces up and examined it in her hands.

 

They look like...lightbulb glass? Why would someone--

 

She glances up at the ceiling to have her fears answered. All the lights that ran down the hallway to the living room were knocked out, broken filaments hanging from some of the recesses.

 

What the fuck. What the _fuck_.

 

Who would--

 

Connie stiffens as she hears heavy boot steps across the wooden floor behind her and turns in time to watch Elliot get punched in the temple by the same guy they’d just say on the FBI database. Elliot drops to the floor cold.

 

Shit. Oh shit oh fuck.

 

Her legs are in gear before she can process what’s going on, brain already kicking into overdrive and the dominant thought of _run_.

 

She makes it to the end of the hall before slipping on some of the lightbulb shards, nearly screams in pain as she lands on the ground hard. Some of the glass lodges into her hip and arm where she fell hardest.

 

Connie watches the world spin around her, praying that she’ll live to see morning, as the man in the mask kneels just over her head and presses a no doubt chloroformed cloth to her mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book used in the red book game is "The Scarlet Letter".


	6. Horror Movie Tropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter left the Connie and Elliot in the living room after David stormed off from their red book game. Now, he's faced with the most difficult challenge of his life: what movie should they watch?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so excited for this chapter since I started the story and I'm even MORE excited that I finally get to share it with all of you!
> 
> Naming Guide
> 
> Wash: David  
> North: Elliot  
> South: Eleanor (El)  
> York: Hunter  
> Carolina: Carol  
> CT: Connie  
> Florida: Butch  
> Wyoming: Reggie  
> Tex: Allison  
> Maine: Marcus

Hunter shuts the door to the entertainment room behind him and softly bangs his head against it.

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

They should’ve put their foot down about David speaking to the book about the twins. The guy was already on thin ice as it was. Hopefully David will come back from wherever he stormed off to in a better state.

 

Fuck. He came back here to forget about what happened last year and make some better memories to rewrite what happened. And what did he do?

 

He pissed off a spirit and made David hurt all over again. Fan-fucking-tastic.

 

The weekend’s not over yet, though, right? Maybe he could still salvage things.

 

He walks to the cabinets that line the walls of the projection room in search of a good movie to put on for the remaining three of them to watch.

 

_Nightmare on Elm Street_? Nah, Connie’s expressed her dislike for Freddy during multiple horror movie camp outs.

 

_Jennifer’s Body_? A good one, but Elliot was emetophobic and, if he remembered correctly, there was a nasty vomit scene in it with black sludge and pine needles. No-go on that one.

 

_Sharknado_? For such a self-proclaimed film buff, David sure had some weird taste in horror movies.

 

Hunter plucks the _Cabin in the Woods_  case off the shelf, satisfied in his final choice. He pops the disc into the projector and gets it rolling. As soon as the intro ads start playing, his stomach rumbles in hunger. 

 

Fuck, really? Couldn't have waited until Connie and Elliot were back so he could send Connie to get food and spend some alone time with Elliot? Just his fucking luck.

 

He leaves the room with a groan, slowly dragging his feet out to the kitchen and avoiding looking at the living room for his trek through it.

 

Bags of chips, unpopped popcorn, candy, and a myriad of other nonperishable snacks are littered on the counter. David probably brought all that sweet stuff up before everyone got here. 

 

Hunter grabs a handful of Doritos from the open bag laying innocently on the counter. 

 

He snags one of the popcorn bags and tosses it into the microwave as he wipes the cheese dust off his pants. He leans against the counter as the microwave whirrs.

 

The kitchen feels almost as distant and ominous as it did last year. He can almost see himself, Carol, and Reggie huddled near the counter and debating over whether the prank was a good idea or not as Connie scribbles out the note that effectively sent Hannah to her death.

 

Hunter’s stomach twists in guilt as he thinks about how naive and dickish they all were back then. 

 

As his vision shows him the dismal kitchen as it looks today instead of then, a piece of paper is laying in almost the exact same spot as the prank.

 

Hunter squeezes his eyes, wondering if it’s just a leftover piece of his flashback.

 

It’s still there when he opens his eyes.

 

Weird.

 

He walks the few step until he’s at the lower counter just behind the raised bar one and plucks the sheet from its resting place.

 

It’s a note from David’s father.

 

_Reminders_

 

_ -Clean sheets _

_ -Change light bulbs _

_ -Stock pantry _

 

_ David, please be careful while you’re up there this weekend. We don’t want you falling into the hands of that maniac like your sisters did. _

 

_If anything happens, contact us at this line:_

 

The number following is smeared heavily, as if someone spilled water on it. David probably has it written down anyway, knowing how anal he is about safety on the mountain.

 

Hunter slides the note back to its original resting place and jumps when the microwave signals his popcorn is done.

 

Stupid fucking thing always gets you when you aren’t ready for it.

 

Hunter pours the steaming snack into a large bowl and scoops it up eagerly, snagging a few kernels as he leaves the kitchen.

 

He freezes at the faint sound of heavy boot steps coming from the movie room. Nobody in their invited group took boots like that up here with them, he was sure of it. He didn’t think _anyone_  owned boots like that.

 

Hunter’s mind went reeling back to the footnote on the message from David’s dad. Someone had done something to Hannah and Beth. Was that same person in the cabin now?

 

He backtracked to the kitchen as silently as he could, exchanging his bowl of popcorn for a frying pan to arm himself with. Was it the best weapon? No, but it was better than nothing.

 

He tiptoed his way to the entertainment room, bracing himself for someone to be around the corner. Hunter jumped down the hall, swinging at anything near him.

 

He exhaled sharply when the hall turned out empty, no signs of anyone.

 

Had he misheard the footsteps?

 

Hunter tightened his grip on the frying pan handle. There may have been no one in the hallway, but it didn’t make his unease ebb away in the slightest. 

 

He settles into the entertainment room with the frying pan on his lap as the movie resumes its playback with a touch of the remote. The movie does one hell of a job in relaxing him, and Hunter finds himself almost half asleep before the kids are at the cabin yet.

 

The video player begins to sputter and clatter, as the video cuts in and out. He scrubs his face with his hands, regretting not waiting to start the movie with Elliot and Connie so he could beg one of them to fix the damn thing.

 

He leaves his seat with an exasperated sigh and bangs on the projector until the video cuts out entirely.

 

Fuck nuggets.

 

Hunter jumps when the lights cut out, half expecting some maniac in a mask to appear out of nowhere. He breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes it was just his own nerves eating at him. He was still alone in the video room, standing next to a jacked up video projector. 

 

Half of him wanted to go find the others, but the prideful half of him said to stay and figure out what's going on with the lights. It's probably just the wires being chewed at by the cold, but he should check the bulbs just in case.

 

As he moved to the center of the room to stand on one of the chairs, the projector flickered back to life. The screen fills with what looks like a portion of a news clipping. Hunter jumps off the chair to get a closer look.

 

_Superstar Football Player Next Big Sensation_

 

Wait a minute. That was a picture of himself smiling in his football jersey next to the text. _That was a clipping about him._

 

He walks towards the projection slowly, almost as if drawn to it. The eyes in the paper were ripped out as he moved closer, and he tripped over the chair trying to run backwards. Fuck, what the _fuck_  was going on.

 

The scene changed to a few more clippings: one about his Stanford scholarship, two more about his football stats, and a final one that contained his statement about what happened here last year.

 

In each picture attached he was deformed and drawn over with a pen: one with a missing lower jaw and his tongue hanging out, one with his skull bashed in, one where he was beheaded, and the final, piece de resistance. The last one portrayed him as a monster with a wide jaw and three rows of teeth, complete with his skin stretched thin and sunken eyes to match.

 

Oh _shit_  this was disturbing. 

 

Fuck. Fuck, shit fuck.

 

“What the fuck?” Hunter murmurs to himself, desperately looking around the video room for signs of another person. He turns his attention back to the screen when he finds none.

 

_“Hello, Hunter. Enjoying the show?”_

 

The distorted voice booms through the theater room, nearly ripping Hunter’s heart out of his chest from how startling it was. He spins around the room, trying to find any source of the voice, but the room’s empty. He’s alone. 

 

What?

 

What the fuck is going on? Why is this madman showing him photos of him from newspapers like that? Why him? What. Is Going. On.

 

He looks back up at the screen and finds the footage from his college football recruitment reel is being played. 

 

_“Look at this jock. A perfect, nimble sparrow. Do you think he realizes this will be his final moments of victory? Of happiness?”_

 

“Why are you showing me this?” Is all Hunter can manage to question. His palms are shaking from fear, and he bites on his lower lip hard to keep the rest of his body from trembling. Fuck, when did he become such a scaredy-cat?

 

_“Why are you watching?”_

 

Hunter chokes back a dry laugh. Why was he watching? Why was he playing into this sadist’s game?

 

_I admire your choice in horror, Hunter._

 

He laughs this time, openly and bitterly.

 

“Yeah, I admire their choice in archetypes. It’s a real kicker.”

 

_“Which one are you, Hunter? What archetype do you fit?_

 

_ The athlete? Your news clippings sure seem to support that. The whore? It’s no secret you sleep around. The scholar? According to the papers, it seems that you got into Stanford. Scholar worthy, I’d think. _

 

_How about the virgin? Are you all talk and no game? Your low self-esteem masked by your over cockiness and eagerness with women might be hiding something._

 

Fuck, how did he know this stuff? Was it the old school newspapers? He was going to kick the nerd’s ass who published that shit about him if so.

 

" _No, I know what you are._

 

_ You’re the fool. _

 

_You’re Mr. Big Shot; Mr. Always-Has-to-Have-the-Last-Laugh. Bet you’re not laughing anymore.”_

 

The voice laughs over a speaker somewhere, or maybe from the recording itself. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but it’s fucking creepy.

 

_“You know what they all have in common? The athlete, the whore, the scholar, the virgin, and the fool?_

 

_ They all die. _

 

_And so will you.”_

 

The screen cuts once again and this time, it's an obituary from the paper.

 

_Hunter ----_

 

_ Cause of death: Sawed in Half _

 

The sound of a saw blade cut through the room, but he was still alone. What the fuck was going on?

 

“No, no-- _please_ \--”

 

_”I'm going to give you a chance to run.”_

 

What?

 

_10\. 9. 8._

 

No, no this couldn't be happening. This had to some fucked-up dream of his and he was gonna wake up any second now.

 

“What's going on?” Hunter screams, throat burning from the tears now streaming from his face. He was going to kick his own ass for this when he woke up.

 

_7\. 6._

 

A bang resounds from the entrance to the video room, and a man stands there. He’s got a mask with monstrous teeth and a metal baseball bat in his hand. Hunter’s frozen in place, glancing between the psycho and the frying pan on the floor.

 

Can he grab it in time? Can he even get a good enough grip to knock the person out and escape?

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a back door he’d missed earlier. Fuck, it could be a closet for all he knows, but running for it will be his best bet.

 

Fuck, this was fucked up.

 

_Hunter!_

 

Shit!

 

He dives for the frying pan and goes for a whack. The psycho avoids it easily with his bat and the clash reverberates with a loud twang.

 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

 

Hunter makes a run for the back door, breathing a small sigh of relief when it opens to a small hallway. There’s a second door at the end of the hallway, and he books it.

 

Shit, when was he gonna wake up?

 

He nearly slams into the door before realizing it’s missing a handle. Fuck, could this night get any worse?

 

He scans the wine shelves adorning the walls and finds a silver doorknob resting atop it. Hunter spares a glance at the figure now approaching the beginning of the hallway. He shoves down his fear and topples the shelf, snatching the handle from the mess of wine and glass.

 

Fuck, the psycho was coming down the hallway right now. He needed to act _fast_.

 

Hunter fumbles with the lock, shoving it in the slot and throwing the door open. He pushes into the guest room beyond, leaping over the bed in it without a second thought.

 

Fuck, this was just-- _fuck_.

 

He looks back over his shoulder to see the psycho almost upon him. Ahead of him, he has a choice: there’s a small crawlspace in the wall big enough for him to hide in, or he could take his chances and run.

 

The slap of heavy boots shortly behind him makes up his mind. He was going to hide and not make a noise until he was certain the creep was gone. 

 

Hunter makes a dive for the crawlspace, making it halfway through before hands wrapped around his ankles and yanked him back out. The rubble and cement pieces littering the floor beneath him left his arms cut up as he was dragged further into the room.

 

Fuck, that hurt. Fuck. Dreams can’t hurt you, can they? Fuck, this was actual real. What the fuck. Why the fuck--

 

_”You won’t be getting away this time.”_

 

Hunter looks up at his assailant one last time before a fist collides with his temple and knocks him out cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! Elliot is emetophobic because I am also emetophobic and wanted some solice. 
> 
> Also: I know I used the term psycho and psychopath in a derogatory way, but I wanted the chapter to really reflect Hunter's fear and, unfortunately, a lot of people use it in that way. I'm sorry if this hurt you in any way, it wasn't intended to.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to follow the plot of Until Dawn for a good portion, but some stuff will still be changed. I'm going to have fun rewriting some...Josh related stuff, to put it lightly.


End file.
